


No One Ever Has

by SomedayTheSky



Category: Villains Series - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Dreams and Nightmares, Hella kissing and Eli is very confused, Introspection, Kissing, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, One Shot, content warning: brief and non-graphic allusions to homophobia and self-harm, slightly out of character (?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 19:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayTheSky/pseuds/SomedayTheSky
Summary: Sometimes — while he waited — Eli had dreams.





	No One Ever Has

Eli felt in layers and layers; mirrors reflecting mirrors reflecting mirrors. He found it hard to sort out what was there and what was just him expecting something there.

It was hard to mistake pain. He knew it too well — the press of a good, blunt knife, the welling, the streaming, the flesh knitting back together again. It was a song, that familiarity — an old song — a heavy sound, a driving bass. Like his heart was the drum and they both beat and they both broke. Like when he’d died. Something like that.

Eli thought about death a lot.

For several minutes, the only warm thing in the world had been the press of palms. In. Out. Chest. Ice. Flesh. Tile.

Eli thought about death a lot, and he thought that made him wise. But those palms were on his cheeks. Victor was kissing him. And if _Victor Vale_ was kissing _him_ — well, then, there was clearly something very important Eli had simply failed to grasp.

He’d had girlfriends — of _course_ he’d had girlfriends; he wasn’t going to let folks think he was some kind of _freak_ — but he’d never really been one for dating. It was an exhausting performance, really, and the audience was generally unappreciative. They didn’t know half of what he could do, would do, had done.

Eli had worked hard so no one would see him in himself, but still — did no one see him at all? Or was the whole world really that tame, that placid? Was Victor Vale the only one who looked — really _looked_ at people?

He’d expected the dial by now. A gun to his fucking heart. _Something_. It was still just a kiss.

 _Just a_   _kiss._

Eli Ever could not love — not really. He could, however, obsess. He could worship. And if he were honest (or maybe really really drunk) he might have admitted to coveting more than one god.

Victor stepped back. Just one small step, and then a world of pale iris. Breath still warm against Eli’s cheek. “I know,” he said, quiet and low, “everything about you, Cardale.”

And with that, Eli’s legs went out, and his arms broke, and he spilled over red, and it all was light, light, light.

There was a purple bruise where his arm had slammed into the wall, and all the sheets were in a tangled heap on the floor. Victor stood against the wall — his usual spot — collar up, arms crossed, watching coolly for a short moment. Then he turned and left, disappearing through the glass-smooth cell.

And Eli was alone again.


End file.
